Red vs Blue: Retold
by Clock Work Machine
Summary: Tex, Wash, Carolina, the Reds and the blues are searching for the Sarcophagus. Searching for the Meta. Searching for Church. Mild swearing and stuffs. :)


Slightly AU, unless you can figure out logically how Church and Tex have a physical body, and how Maine survived that fall. I'm too lazy to come up with an explanation, so just roll with it.

This is my first RvB fic, and I have three chapters planned out already. :)

As the team of soldiers rounded another corner, a snow-ridden cliff stretched out in front of them. Tex, Wash, Carolina, the Reds and the Blues had been searching for months. Searching for the Sarcophagus. Searching for Church. Searching for the one agent who would continue this... project. Agent Maine, now known as the Meta. The snowy cliff-side was all to familiar.

"But... Isn't this where the Meta DIED? There's no way he survived that fall!" Grif said.

"I survived my fall off this cliff with my grappling hook; and this is Maine we're talking about." Carolina curtly replied.

"What's the Sarcophagus anyway?"

"It's... Well, it's what was used to torture the Alpha... To make him split up, and the Meta wants to make the Alpha and all his fragments again; by using Church."

"This is bullshit..."

"This place is deserted... I smell a trap," Tex told the group.

Right on cue, hundreds of soldiers spilled out of the crashed Mother of Invention.

"Attention assholes, you are surrounded! Your plans to steal the Sarcophagus have been... Foiled? No, that sounds lame... Anyway, make no attempt to fight. You are outnumbered! We will take you into custody." the apparent leader of the group announced, his green highlights standing out.

"Ahh... Shit."

Their white armor gleamed in the snow, their identical ODST helmets and multicolour visors shining, as they charged in. Not one by one, not in waves, in a huge fucking group. Not even the Freelancers in the group of multicolored soldiers would be able to keep them down.

As the colored group of soldiers kept some at bay, guns blazing, they knew they wouldn't last long. As they were beginning to lose hope, the white soldiers slowly overpowered them.

The Reds and Blues were finally taken down, mostly by punches and kicks (poor Grif, as you can imagine, his balls have once again been obliterated).

The leader, along with his stupid green highlights, had been brutally taken down first, with the grappling hook through his skull. What a cockbite. He deserved it.

"We can't hold them all off! We're being overpowered!" Wash yelled.

"Got any ideas, then?" Tucker asked, the last of the blues still standing.

"These fuckers are a lot stronger than u-"

He was cut off as Carolina's scream echoed off the cliffs as she was hurled backwards, thrown by a soldier with a green visor. The rather buff soldier turned to look at the other freelancers, and the struggling-to-stand power-ranger-like coloured group.

"Whatta you looking at, Limey?" Grif shouted, swaying slightly.

"Ah, fucksticks, outta ammo..."

This sentence was followed with a few remarks by the others, mainly containing; "fuck, me too!"

As Limey slowly moved towards the simulation troops, something came crashing down upon him.

SomeONE came crashing down.

And it was none other than...

"the Meta? Shit shit fuck shit!"

As you can guess, Simmons was fairly worried. And scared.

The Meta stood up, glaring at them all.

As you should know, it does not pay well to be distracted in battle. So, consequently, our Freelancer and power ranger buddies were all knocked over. Again.

"Are you working with anyone Meta?" Wash gasped, attempting, and failing, to get up.

"What? Dude, he's not a fucking maniac... Anymore."

A figure in blue armour stepped out from behind the Meta, revealing himself.

"CHURCH?"

"Yeah, hi, how's it going? Shut the fuck up, and get the fuck up!"

"That's a little hard at the moment."

("Bow chicka bow wow...")

"Yeah, okay bud. Maine? Howsabout we take these fuckers out?"

A growl was all that was heard from the large mute, but Church seemed satisfied.

"Okay, then..." Church and Maine turned, facing the soldiers who had been watching this whole time.

"Umm... Eliminate the others, but keep 'Maine' alive, we were warned about him..." a red visored man ordered.

"Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From. MY. FRIENDS!"

And with that, Church and Maine were off.

It's amazing really, how well those two work on a team. They're better than North and South.

Constantly swapping weapons, constantly switching sides.

They really listen to each other.

And what's more amazing is Church's aim. Since when has he been able to get a headshot while no-scopeing?

And since when could he get a headshot when HE WAS LOOKING IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION? Holy shitballs, man.

He was actually pretty badass.

Also, duel wielding sniper rifles? Must've gotten that idea off North.

"I-he-whah? What the hell, man?" Needless to say, Tucker was having a hard time believing this.

All too soon, a quarter of the soldiers remained.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm getting tired. Let's just kill them." Church mumbled, dropping the rifle in his left hand.

The rifle in his right hand was noticeably different. It had the same colour blue as Church's armour highlights.

As Church twirled it in his hand, it transformed. Growing in size, it formed into a scythe-like weapon.

The dazed soldiers had barely any warning before it was heading strait at them.

The scyther-rifle flew through the air like a boomerang, returning to Church's outstretched hand.

The remaining ten-or-so soldiers stood up, only to be shot by Church or utterly destroyed by Maine.

"Well, I guess we better go help them up..." Church said, gesturing to the colourful crew.

A short growl and a curt nod from Mr. Fucking-big-visor was good enough.

"You guys okay?" Church asked the group, while helping Caboose up. "Never better!" groaned Grif, holding his groin.

"Oh come on, as if you didn't see that coming!" Tucker sighed.

"Here, take this if anyone needs it." Church said, throwing a healing unit to Tex.

"Guys, I'll be right back, gotta check... Something." Church said, turning towards the crashed ship.

Maine innocently got up from his sitting position to follow Church like an obedient dog.

"What're you checking?" the translator in Church's helmet said in response to Maine's growl.

"I'm looking for all the info on the Freelancers. Not really too important, but I'm just checking to see if anyone is still, well, active."

"Okay, can I come then?"

"Well, we're already here."

Church replied, stopping twenty meters in front of the entrance to the metal structure.

"Something's... off."

A split second later, the sound of a gun being fired was ringing through Maine's ears, as he watched Church fall, his chest piece soaked red with blood.

And that's chapter one! Hope you liked it, and sorry if anyone's OOC ;n;

Church! Why did you give the healing unit to Tex! Why, Church? Whyyyy?


End file.
